half price? half off? what does that make her? half a human? half a soul? half a heart? damaged goods. does that make her not worthy of truth or honesty? she’s nothing more than expendable trash. if you don’t see that in her eyes than you are blind. you neglect to see what’s right in front of you. you neglect to see the truth. you only want to see what you think is there. truth is she is empty. she’s run dry. the fuel for life, the lust for life, that died out a long time ago.

she hangs on to memories as if it’s all that she has left. even if they are tainted memories she clings to them viciously. she claws at them as if they are the remains of what life she has left. it’s so tragic that she cannot remember happier times. she cannot muster up one memory where she smiled, where she laughed, or where she was actually happy. she doesn’t remember the last time she had a friend, a true friend at that.

she remembers the rape. she remembers his hands, his dirty, dirty hands. she remembers his kisses. the poison soaked into her lips and spread throughout her body. that poison fished it’s way into her soul and killed her spirit little by little. she remembered that moment. that single moment where he stole her life. her breathing stopped, she stifled the scream, she hesitated and then she let go. she screamed no. she told him to stop. what she remembers next is the hissing of the words and the clamp over her mouth. “you love it” as his hand shuts her up.

she remembers that memory. she remembers that moment. she doesn’t remember the befores or the afters. the i love you’s vanished that day, they lost meaning from then on. everytime another guy went to utter those words she stopped him in his tracks. she insisted those words were poisonous. those words were only meant for dirty things, so she laid down upon her back, spread her legs and closed her eyes. “just make it fast, please”

the word love was taken from her vocabulary. the words love and hate meant the same to her. she used to smile, you know? she used to laugh. i know it’s so much to fathom, especially when you look at her now. she used to smile you know. i saw her once, you know. she smiled back at me in the reflection of the mirror.

before I was broken, before I was taken. I smiled, but that was stolen at the age of 17 and every memory there after was ME letting a guy use me. after all, it’s what i wanted…..

wasnt it?

its sad that i see you for who you really are now. you are a dark coniving asshole. this feeling is reminiscent of how i felt when i first met you. I was filled with such confusion and then with such clarity. Now it’s just backwards I suppose. At first I felt confusion. I thought of you as a friend. As someone who I could rely on to have my back. Now, well now the clarity hits. The who you were and the who you are become clear. It’s just that before you hid who you are so well and portrayed who you wanted people to see you as.

It’s sad that you walk down hallways alone. Even if you are with people who you call friends, you are still alone. You hide beneath that mask with such surity. You hide with such confidence that no one will ever know the real you. You walk alone thinking that you have everything but in reality you have nothing. I say nothing because you’re everything is just a lie. Everything you’ve said to people are lies because as you say them, you aren’t really you. You are just another tragic being who feels he needs to cover everything up with perfection instead of showing your flaws. Just so you know, flaws make people attractive, even if they aren’t the prettiest. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder my dear friend and you, you are not filled with beauty. You are ugly, inside and out, and I shall show nothing but pity for you, as you walk down that hallway alone.

You see my friend, even though we are not friends any longer I still feel compelled to call you that. It’s such an absurdity really. Why should I see you as a friend? After all you are the one that turned your back. You are the one that decided to cover up who you were. I’m sorry, I mean who you are. Is there any amount of sadness resignating in your heart? Any at all? I will weep for you at night if there isn’t any sadness. Eventually you will crack and you will crumble. Eventually your little facade will shatter. The sad and evident truth is that when you do shatter you will only have the remains. You will have no one to pick up the pieces. No one to help you back on your feet. Tragedy, isn’t that how it seems? I may still call you my friend, but I will not help you up. I will not cry with you nor will I walk with you. I will look down at your tear smeared face and I will just smile.

Does this shock you at all? That I finally had enough of you. That I will just smile as the tears dirty your face. Did you really think that I would be there forever? Through all the times you walked away from me I held out hope that maybe you’d come and help, be the friend you said you were. All along you never came and I kept telling myself you were busy and that you’d come next time. Next time came and went and I said the same thing, so I eventually stopped hoping you’d come. I started helping myself and not acknowledging the crumbling facade that lay before me.

You must remember “friend” that you did this all on your own. There was no “we” in this destruction so you cannot place blame on me for not being there. You cannot hope against hope that I will help you now when you buried me beneath the sand and let the tide rush over me. Inside you, were you wishing I’d drown?

It’s sad you know, that I once called you friend. That I once said I loved you with all my heart. Well, that’s come and gone now. Truth be told I no longer love you. I feel bad for you, but I will no longer neglect myself. It’s my time, not you time. It’s me time and I’m sorry, but goodbye